


Passions & Dreams

by Akikofuma



Series: Witcher Prompts [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, M/M, Modern Setting, Not Beta Read, Professor!Geralt, Prompt Fic, Soft!Geralt, Somehow this turned into 14 pages, Student!Jaskier, University AU, i wrote this when i should have been sleeping, pining!Jaskier, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26806936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akikofuma/pseuds/Akikofuma
Summary: He’s my professor. My stupidly handsome, brilliant professor. A gorgeous man that I have to look at, and talk to, and fucking- fucking see almost every day. I moaned out his name hooking up with someone else- god it was mortifying.”“A professor, huh? Must be twice your age.” The bartender commented, quirking a brow at him. “Daddy issues?”-------Another prompt by the lovely @doberainbow <3Geralt is a history professor at university. Jaskier immediately falls in lust with him. And, as it turns out, perhaps more than that.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Witcher Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955077
Comments: 43
Kudos: 323





	Passions & Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doberainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doberainbow/gifts).



> So. Another prompt! I know you guys are probably wondering why I havent updated "The Beauty of Stars". I have to admit, I'm having some trouble with the next chapter. I simply don't want to put out anything that doesn't feel perfect. I hope you guys understand! These prompts are a wonderful change in pace, and a break I think I really needed. 
> 
> I'm happy to take prompts from all of you, though I can't promise I'll take every prompt. 
> 
> Now please enjoy the sweetest of prompts I've had in a while! 
> 
> (Please be aware that I have no idea how University in the US or UK works. Like, zero. I did the best I could anyway, but don't expect this to be accurate.)

When Jaskier had arrived at University, he’d had no idea what he wanted to do with his life.

He’d signed up for a few courses; art history, Theater and Drama Studies, Graphic design. He’d dabbled in linguistics and photography. He’d even taken a stab at architecture. One of the upsides of being born into a rich family, as well as being the black sheep. No one really expected him to do anything worth while; allowing him the chance to drift about during his first semester without a real focus.

Then, one fateful day, a girl he’d fancied invited him to join her for a history class. Jaskier had no interest in the topic, far from it in fact. But she’d been pretty, and he’d been.. well, _horny_. So he’d come along.

That day, everything changed.

The professor wasn’t at all what the brunette had been expecting. He’d pictured an old man in a stuffy suit adorned by elbow patches made of leather. He’d thought he’d be listening to a boring voice, droning on about things he’d never care about in a million years while he tried not to get caught dreamily eyeing the young woman that held his affections.

But then he’d walked into the lecture hall, and there he was. Professor Rivia. Tall and muscled, with golden eyes and hair the color of freshly fallen snow. Much too young for his hair to be that white, with a strong jaw and a straight nose.

And lord, his _voice_.

Deep, and a bit on the raspy side, it had chased goosebumps over his skin. Never before had he heard a voice like that.

The next hour, he’d watched the man move in front of the class with an easy sort of grace and confidence, calm yet somehow clearly passionate about his subject. Siting important dates and events of the period they were covering with ease.

He’d been so taken by what he was seeing, Jaskier hadn’t heard a single word he’d said. Hadn’t paid any attention to the girl that had convinced him to come. His world had narrowed to the professor, and the professor alone.

Once the lecture was over, he walked back to his dorm in a daze; his minds eye filled with images of the man in various states of undress.

* * *

He’d done some recon the next few weeks, desperate to snatch up any information on the professor. Was he married? Had he ever dated a student before? How long had he been at the University?

Any piece of information was soaked up eagerly, burned into his brain to never forget. No, he was not married. No, he’d never dated a student, though not for lack of students trying. He’d been at the University for almost ten years now, despite only being 43 years old. While being respected by other professors, he mostly kept to himself. His former students moaned at the mention of his, apparently rather difficult, exams and merciless grading.

Jaskier had almost given up hope until he’d glanced at the announcement board one day and seen a pamphlet pinned to it. A new club, for an LGBTQ+ club. Headed by none other than Professor Rivia.

Jaskiers heart skipped a beat.

Maybe that’s why a respected professor in his forties wasn’t married. Gay marriage wasn’t legal here, though the brunette truly hoped that some day, it would be. He’d debated on joining the club from that moment on.

In the end, he didn’t quite have the courage to join, but he did stay in the history class. The first few lectures went completely over his head, too enthralled by the man teaching to take in any information. Praying to whatever deity cared to hear him that Professor Rivia didn’t pick up on how hopelessly infatuated Jaskier was. He truly couldn’t have dealt with the humiliation.

Then, something strange happened. His interest in the white haired male didn’t lessen, but instead of focusing completely on his movements, his eyes- Jaskier actually started to _learn_.

It seemed Professor Rivias- Geralts, as Jaskier learned a few days later- passion was infectious. Jaskier started to put actual effort in, reading his textbook to the point his roommate declared him a history buff, just in case he was called upon. Maybe he wasn’t interesting to Geralt as a student, but maybe, if he impressed him now, there was a chance for something between them once he’d graduated.

A pathetic speck of hope, that he clung to like a life line.

* * *

Eventually, Jaskier settled on courses.

English Literature, Modern linguistics, and of course; history.

He found he had a passion for the written word, for conveying stories, emotions and experiences to others through different mediums; music, books, plays. Wanted to share himself, in a way, with the people around him.

His parents had wrinkled their nose when he’d returned home and announced he now aspired to be an author. His older brother, at least, had shown more enthusiasm. Even going so far as to ask if Jaskier had any specific genre in mind.

“Historical fiction.”

Okay, so _maybe_ his newfound interest in history had been jump started by the very attractive professor that taught it. After all, he’d never showed much enthusiasm for the topic before. He couldn’t even blame his brother for the funny face he made at the reply. It was certainly a strange choice for Jaskier.

It wasn’t all Geralt though. Once he’d stopped practically salivating over the man, he’d actually become rather fond of history class. It was fascinating to learn how their world had been a hundred years ago. What events had taken place when, and why. How a single man could make a decision that would change the world for decades, perhaps even centuries, to come.

So despite his parents disapproval, and his brothers confusion on the matter, Jaskier had stayed his course. He was finally doing something that made him happy.

He wouldn’t let anyone take that away from him.

* * *

Jaskier stared down at the exam before him.

92%.

He’d gotten 92% on his history exam. He blinked, just in case he was seeing something wrong. At the very bottom, there was a note, written in neat letters:

_Acceptable_ .

The brunette was torn between laughing and crying. None of his classmates had scored as high as him; he’d never gotten such a high mark on any other test in his life. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart. He just- had trouble concentrating, whether it be in class or studying at the library.

So there he sat, with the most successful exam of his life, with a scribbled note by the man he was in ~~love~~ lust with, not knowing what to do with himself. Caught up in his brain, his thoughts going two hundred miles an hour, spinning out fantasies he really shouldn’t be having.

_Straddling Geralt as he sat at his desk in his office, those large hands holding him by the hips, telling him how well he’d done, how happy it made Geralt to see he was working hard-_

_Jaskier sprawled out on a student desk, Geralt between his shamelessly spread legs, begging to be filled like a slut, desperate to be stuffed full-_

_Geralt pressing him up against a wall in an abandoned classroom, fucking him from behind, growling into his ear to take it, to be a good boy, hold it in until he finished-_

“Mr. Pankratz.”

Jaskier head snapped upwards, suddenly faced with the very man he had just been daydreaming about.

“P-Professor?”

“Class is over.” Jaskier swallowed, quickly scanning the room. He was the last one left, aside of the professor; could feel his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment.

“Right.” He swallowed, wishing he hadn’t worn his tightest pair of jeans that day. He was hard, his cock twitching against its confines, with no hope of it going away with Geralt this close. “I-”

“Are you sick?” The question threw him off balance so much, Jaskier could only stare dumbly as he processed what he was being asked. Before he could answer, Geralt was moving.

A hand, much more calloused that he’d expected yet still pleasant against his skin, touched his forehead. Just for a second, barely enough for the brunette to even feel it before it was being pulled back.

“You’re flushed, and sweating. There’s a flu going around. Go see the nurse.”

Jaskier shook himself from his stupor.

“I- I still have class, professor, I can’t-”

“What class?” Professor Rivia interrupted, almost harshly.

“English lit.” Jaskier replied immediately, his neck starting to ache from the awkward angle he’d had to hold it to look up. He was still sitting, after all, while Geralt stood.

“I’ll talk to Professor Marks. Go see the nurse. Can you get there yourself?”

Again, Jaskiers mind seemed to stutter. What if he said no, that he needed help? Would he be swept up into strong arms and carried? Would Geralt sling an arm around his back, let him lean against that broad, broad chest, while they walked?

“I’m fine.” It was physically painful to say, but he said it anyway. He was already pushing his luck. By some miracle, Geralt hadn’t realized what was really going on with the younger man. “I can get there.”

“Hmm.” A sharp nod, and an expectant look later, Jaskier was slowly standing. The entire conversation, thankfully, had helped soften his cock just enough to go unnoticed. Now if only he could get past the spectacular man in front of him, looking him over.

“Thank you. For talking to-”

“You’re welcome. Get to the nurse.”

* * *

“Bollocks.”

Jaskier scowled at the bookshelf he’d been sent to by the librarian. The book he’d wanted to borrow for an essay was gone.

“Who else would read a fucking historical fiction about Marie-Antoinette?” He huffed, thoroughly disheartened. He’d hope to write an analysis about it, and how historically accurate it had been, but of fucking course, it had already been lent out.

It was the cherry on top of his already shitty week; he’d sprained his ankle tripping over his own shoes when he’d accidentally slept in, rushing to get to class. The girl he’d been after (just because he really wanted Geralt didn’t mean he was going to be celibate) had dumped him for some jock with the IQ of a squirrel. It had been raining for days on end, and by the time he’d made it to whatever class he’d needed to get to, he was soaked almost down to the bone.

And now, the book he’d wanted was gone, probably gathering dust on another students desk, completely useless to anyone-

“I would.”

He’d have recognized that voice anywhere. He froze on the spot, unwilling to turn around, to face the man. Seriously, how much more shit could go wrong? Here he stood, dripping water onto the wood floor, miserable and cold, about to confront the man of his dreams looking like shit.

“Professor.” Jaskier tried his best to keep his voice even, to force a smile onto his face. If he wanted any chance at one day dating the man, he’d have to start making a better impression.

“Looking for this?” Geralt asked, holding the book out to him.

“Yes, actually. Thank you.” He took hold of the offered item, hoping the man didn’t catch the shiver that ran along his body as their fingers brushed ever so briefly. “This is a life saver, really. See, I was going to write an essay on it, for my english lit class; about how accurate it is, then analyze the differences between the real Marie-Antoinette and the one in the book, how the author changed her and why-”

Oh god, he was babbling. Full-on, spiraling out of control babbling. It was horrifying, but Jaskier was helpless to stop it. 

“Its fascinating really, how people can take historic events and bend them around their own narrative. Though most of the times it turns out rather silly and less than accurate, since everything that doesn’t fit just gets cut away- Oh, did you ever read “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court?” I found it incredibly interesting, but of course I would, Mark Twain was a brilliant author-”

He couldn’t remember when he’d looked down, but once blue eyes found pools of melted gold, his words abruptly cut off. Geralt was-  _smiling_ . Not a full on smile, or a grin, just a barely there curl of his lips; the closest he’d ever seen the man get to a facial expression that wasn’t stoic calm. 

“..And now I’m going to stop talking. I’m sorry professor, I didn’t mean to-”

“Its fine.” Geralt hummed, mirth dancing in those beautiful eyes. “You’re passionate about this. Its a good thing.”

“I suppose..” Jaskier said, unwilling to humiliate himself further. He just had to keep his mouth shut. 

“It is.” Geralt said, a bit firmer than before. “Don’t let anyone take that from you. Don’t be embarrassed about what makes you happy. People might not always understand, but they don’t have to. As long as you do.” 

And like a school boy with his first crush, Jaskier was blushing again, fidgeting. Geralts gaze was so intense, speaking so earnestly, showing passion himself- 

“I want to be an author for historical fiction one day.” He blurted out. “After I graduate, I want to write a book that’s fiction, but doesn’t mess up the history as much as others do. I want to be the best writer in that genre that ever lived.”

“Big dreams.” Geralt hummed, giving a nod. “For now, I recommend getting back to your dorm and changing into something dry. Wouldn’t want to catch another flu.”

“Yes, right. Of course.” Jaskier quickly agreed. “Thank you again, for the book.” 

He watched Geralt turn away, take a few steps from Jaskier. Then, suddenly, he stopped.

“Mr Pankratz.” Jaskier stared at the broad back before him. “..I look forward to reading that book one day.” 

* * *

Jaskier was drunk. Very, very drunk.

“Bit early to get pissed, don’t you think?” The bartender asked, yet still poured him the shot of tequila he’d requested. 

“Its always time to drink somewhere in the world.” Jaskier slurred, waving his hand dismissively. “You’re the one that’s open at 4 pm.”

“Fair point.” The man nodded, leaning his arm onto the bar. “A girl giving you trouble?”

“..Oh god, are you really going to be the cliche bartender that asks about their patrons woes?” 

“You look like you need someone to talk to.” The stranger shrugged, grabbing a freshly washed glass to dry with the dishrag hung over his shoulder. “No ones forcing you, kid.”

“Its nothing, really.” Jaskier sighed dramatically, downing the shot before he continued. “You see, there’s this guy I like. I mean, _really_ like.”

“He doesn’t like you back?” 

“Oh, if it was only that, maybe I could live with it. But its much worse than that. Pour me another shot, would you? You’re a good man, Sir. A good man. You see, its not just that he doesn’t want me. Its that even if, by some miracle, he did. We couldn’t be together.

He’s my professor. My stupidly handsome, brilliant professor. A gorgeous man that I have to look at, and talk to, and fucking- fucking  _ see  _ almost every day.  I moaned out his name hooking up with someone else- god it was mortifying. ”

“A professor, huh? Must be twice your age.” The bartender commented, quirking a brow at him. “Daddy issues?” 

“Excuse me.” Jaskier spluttered, thoroughly outraged. “I do _not_ have Daddy Issues! Anyone would want a piece of him. He’s the hottest thing since- since fried eggs!” 

“Very eloquent. The hottest thing since fried eggs.” The smug grin on the man’s face only served to infuriate the brunette more.

“I cannot believe you. Here I am, pouring my heart out to, and you- you ridicule a poor, drunk, heartbroken young man for the choice of words-”

  
“Calm down, tiger. I’m only teasing.” The shot glass was refilled. “Have one on the house.”

“Finally!” Jaskier groaned. “Taking pity on a lost soul.” 

“Hardly a lost soul, kid. Don’t have the mileage for that.” Jaskier just rolled his eyes. “Say, this professor. Which class does he teach?”

“History.”

The next day, Jaskier woke up with a hangover from hell; unable to recall much of the night after his fifth shot of tequila. His memories blurred together into a single, colorful mess. As he bent over the toilet to hurl his guts out, he promised himself one thing: Never again was he touching fucking tequila.

* * *

It was the night of his graduation. 

He’d done it. He’d graduated. 

Actually  _fucking graduated_ . 

It hadn’t been easy. So much time spent studying, so much stress over exams, over doing well. Prove not only to his family, but to all his professors and fellow students, that he had it in him. That being born a trust-fund baby with no real responsibility, with the choice of leading the life of a privileged snob, could be  _more_ . That he could make something of himself, without his parents money and influence. 

He wouldn’t have to rely on them much longer. He’d already started on a first draft for his first book. He’d get a job, live in a tiny, shitty apartment. Live off instant noodles and cheap fast food. He could make it. He’d never lost his passion. 

When his roommate had invited him to a bar to celebrate with their friends  after the ceremony , Jaskier had happily agreed. Drinks and a one night stand were definitely in order, after the hours he’d slaved away studying, preparing for his exams. Fuck, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten laid! ..Okay,  _maybe_ that was a bit of an exaggeration. Still, he’d more than earned some fun.  It wasn’t like he had any family here to be with.

A few drinks in, fully intending to chug down a few more, Jaskier leaned against the bar. Lazily glancing around the room as he waited for  the bartender to take his order.  Not drunk yet, but already feeling the warmth of the liquor spreading through him.

He almost lost his footing when his eyes caught sight of- It couldn’t be. Someone had spiked his drink, or he was much more drunk than he’d thought. Because he had to be hallucinating. 

There was just no fucking way Professor Geralt of Rivia was in a sketchy student bar, dressed in a black shirt that clung to him in all the right places, and a pair of equally black jeans; casually sipping on a beer. 

Suddenly, as if he somehow knew he was being watched, Geralt turned his head. There they were, the eyes that had haunted Jaskiers dreams, made him melt every time they lingered upon him.  An expectant little glint shining in them, beckoning him closer.

Perhaps it was the liquid courage that drove him forward. Perhaps  he’d finally reached the limit of how much yearning he could stand. His drink forgotten, Jaskier made his way through the bustling crowd. 

“Professor.” He greeted, putting on what he hoped would be a winning smile. “Can’t say I expected to see you here.” 

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed, barely audible over the chatter surrounding them. “Why’s that?” 

“Well, for one, they only have cheap alcohol. I know professors don’t exactly earn a fortune, but surely you could afford a nicer place, with better drinks.” It surprised himself, the steady sound of his voice, the effortless ways the words left his lips. He had to admit, he was rather impressed with himself. “Secondly, after an entire year of being surrounded by students, most professors are happy to be as far away from them as physically possible. Yet here you are.”

“Yet here I am.” 

“Care to share why you came here of all places, then?” He asked. Was he imagining the amusement in Geralts eyes, the way the man leaned just a fraction of an inch closer to him? Gods above, and devils below, he hoped he wasn’t.

“Hmm.” A non-committal hum, and Jaskiers spirits sank. Had he been wrong? Read the look he’d been given wrong? What if Geralt had only been silently congratulating him, had been to tired to find a bar further from campus- “What are you drinking?” 

“Shot of tequila. Gold, not silver.” It wasn’t what he’d intended on ordering, but now he was standing besides the man he’d ~~loved~~ lusted over for years, since the moment he’d first seen him. He needed a little more to drink. 

Geralt nodded towards a bartender that immediately came over. 

“Geralt.” The  man grinned “Its been too long.” 

“ Lambert .” Ah, they knew each other. Jaskier couldn’t help but feel jealous. “Shot of tequila, gold. Another beer for me.” 

Amber eyes flickered over to Jaskier, then back to Geralt. Lambert gave a little smirk, like he knew something Jaskier didn’t. 

“Coming right up.” 

“An old friend?” Jaskier asked before he could stop himself. “Sorry, none of business-”

“ Little brother. ”  Geralt replied, face softening into a fond expression. “Pain in my ass most days. He owns the bar.”

“ Oh. That’s. Nice?”

“ One shot of tequila, and a beer.” Lambert returned to them, placing the drinks down before them, thankfully saving him from the awkwardness he felt. He quirked a brow at Jaskier, and somehow, that face seemed familiar, now that he was actually looking at it without being distracted-

“Its been a while.” He said, his grin growing wider. “You ever get over that professor you told me about? Mr-” _The-hottest-thing-since-fried-eggs_ ”?  The history guy? ”

In that moment, that night came rushing back to him, though only in fragments. He remembered spilling his heart to Lambert- vaguely remembered the mans teasing at his clumsy, slurred words. A man who turned out to be Geralt’s-

_ Oh no. _

“Oh no.” Jaskier breathed. Please, let the ground swallow him hole before he saw Geralts reaction, before he could be rejected outright in a room full of strangers, in front of the guys  _brother-_

“Hottest thing since fried eggs, huh?” 

To his surprise, Geralt didn’t sound angry. He sounded- amused. Like he hadn’t just found out his student had secretly been picturing him naked every night while jerking off, that hadn’t drunkenly compared him to fried fucking eggs. 

“I was incredibly drunk.” Jaskier protested weakly, his hands shaking despite the fact that nothing bad per se had even happened. 

“Hm.” Still refusing to meet the mans eye, Jaskier wrung his hands. “I don’t date students.”

There it was. He’d been expecting it. Why did it still feel like being punched in the guts?

“Of course, I completely understand. I am so sorry for this, professor, truly. I never thought-”

“However.” Geralt interrupted. “Since you graduated today. You aren’t my student anymore.”

Jaskiers eyes flew up, wide and unbelieving, lips parted in surprise. 

“Now..” Geralt slowly stood, graceful as a cat, placing his hand against the brunettes side. “..you’ve been so patient. What can I do for you?”

“Do. F-for me.” Jaskier wanted to kick himself.  He sounded like a fool, like a  _child_ , overwhelmed with the gift he was being offered. “Professor, I-”

“Its Geralt now.” Geralt rasped, pulling him just a bit closer. “Tell me what you want, Jaskier.” 

“I want-” Jaskier swallowed, swallowed again. He felt tongue tied, his mouth had suddenly gone completely dry, his thoughts a whirlwind of things he’d wanted for far too long, for too many to pick a single one. “I want you.”

H is answer seemed to please the man, the first actual smile Jaskier had ever gotten from him, more beautiful than he’d ever imagined. 

“Want me for what, Jaskier?” Geralt bent down, those sinful lips against the brunettes ear “A quick fuck? Hm? Maybe a weekend?”

“No.” Geralt stiffened, moving to pull away, only to be grabbed by clammy hands curling into his shirt. “I want  _more_ than that. However long you’ll give me. If. If you do, too.” 

The professor seemed genuinely surprised. Looked down at Jaskier like he’d just grown a second head, or started speaking in tongues. His expression quickly becoming controlled, like it was when he lectured. Jaskier felt his heart stop. Had he asked for too much?

“..We should talk somewhere quiet.” Geralt finally said. It hurt, the neutral tone, the absence of the mans warm hand at his side. Jaskier was about to bolt when he caught sight of golden eyes. There was so much emotion reflected in them, some Jaskier couldn’t identify; some he knew all too well. 

Sadness. Hesitation. Pain. 

“ Come on.” He followed Geralt out of the bar, the fading noise of the crowd lessening the longer they walked. The silence felt heavy, somehow important; not to be disturbed. Jaskier itched to fill it, to start talking, hopefully defusing the tense mood that had settled around them. 

The streets were silent, covered in dark. Normally, Jaskier would have felt a teeny bit unsettled. With Geralt here, he had no such fear. On an almost instinctual level, he simply  _knew_ he was safe.

They came to stop at a sleek, black car. 

Geralt appeared torn. His hands clenched into fists as he glowered, lips pressed tight.

“Prof- uh. Geralt?” He asked, hating how timid he sounded. “What’s wrong?”

“..You’re not the first student to approach me.” No, Jaskier imagined he wasn’t. Hell, he hadn’t even been the only student in his class that had been more than crushing on the man. “I told you, I never date students. Truth is, none of them wanted to date me, either. Not really.”

Oh. Jaskier thought he was where this was going.

“They wanted a night, maybe a few- but never more.” Geralt closed his eyes, inhaled sharply, like the words had been forcefully ripped from his chest.

“They wanted the fantasy.” Jaskier whispered.

“Mm.” Geralt nodded, shaking his head. “I never indulged any of them. Never wanted to. Then you came along. Smart, and kind. Passionate about the things you love. A boy that came from a rich family, but wasn’t- wasn’t _entitled_ , like the others. You worked hard, every semester, despite knowing you didn’t have to. That either way, you had a comfortable life just waiting for you. It was.. refreshing to see.”

“Well, if we’re being completely honest and bearing our hearts..” Jaskier chuckled nervously. “I uh. I did only join your class for a chick, in the beginning. And I’m pretty sure I spent the first few weeks drooling over you like one of those cartoon characters. It took me a while to realize that I wasn’t just interested in you. That I actually like history.”

“Hm.” Geralt gave a little snort. “You weren’t exactly subtle, I’ll admit. That first class, I was sure you were going to be just another horny teen; ready to experiment and break taboos along the way. Drawn to me because dating a professor is breaking the rules.”

“What changed?”

“You.” Jaskier watched as Geralt moved to lean his back against the car, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Stopped fawning over me; started to listen. Put work into my class. So much so, for the first time in years, I grudgingly had to give you an A.”

“A-” Jaskier corrected, feeling his muscles relax bit by bit. “Best grade I’ve ever gotten in my life. Though I seem to remember someone writing “Acceptable” at the end of it. I have to say, when the shock of it wore off, I was a bit miffed.”

“You shouldn’t be. First time I’ve ever put down a compliment on a students exam.”

Jaskier couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. He was the _first_.

“Then I saw you in the library. Looking like a pissed off, wet cat.” Geralt continued, and oh yes, Jaskier remembered that day all too well. “History isn’t exactly something most young people care about. But of course, _you_ do. Not exclusively, but still. Listening to you talk about your essay, about your dreams for the future.. I understood then that you were so much more than I’d thought, even after you cleaned up your act in class.”

“Geralt-” Jaskier began, only to fall silent as Geralt shot him a look.

“I thought, once you graduated- I could get you out of my system. Fuck you, and move on. I was sure that’s what you wanted. Not because you were like them, but because you weren’t. You’re- special, Jaskier. You could do much better than me.”

“Bullshit.” Jaskier ignored the stern glare he was given, squared his shoulders; he was about to take a leap into the abyss, with nothing but hope that he’d be caught. “Geralt, you are- breathtaking. Awe inspiring. You’re _magnificent_.”

“Jask-”

“Don’t. Now its my turn to speak.” Geralt fell silent. “Yes, at first I was interested in your looks. Maybe even a little bit in the whole professor-student thing. You said yourself that I changed, and the only reason I did is because I started seeing beyond that. Listening to you talk about history, something you so clearly love- its mesmerizing. It was like you were pulling me in, like- I can’t even begin to describe it, really.

The day you sent me to the nurse? That’s when you showed me how sweet you are. How caring. How _good_.

You head a club for LGBTQ+ people, a place where they can feel safe, and understood. Where they could just be themselves. That taught me that you cared about the people around you, that you saw them struggling and wanted to help. I was too shy to join myself but- I talked to members. They all told me that you were patient, understanding. One said you’d saved his life.”

“Mark.” Geralt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He had it rough- grew up in a conservative family as Marilka. They didn’t take the news well.”

“ But you stuck with him. Helped him get through everything .” Jaskier stepped forward, until they were once more facing each other, the tips of their toes only inches apart. “You’re a good man, Geralt. I could never be satisfied with a quick fuck. Hell, I wouldn’t be satisfied with a hundred fucks. Not if that was all it was between us. Quick, dirty sex with nothing else involved.  I want all of you. ” 

“I’m too old for you.” Geralt argued, though his words lacked any conviction.

“That’s my decision to make, thank you very much. You are _not_ too old for me.”

“Your parents won’t like it.”

“Don’t care. I doubt they even like me.”

“I have a daughter your age.”

Oof, that one was a bit tougher, but Jaskier would be damned if he gave up now.

“Then we’ll probably have at least a few things in common, and get along just fine. Anything else?”

“..You’re too good for me.”

Jaskier felt his heart break just a little for the man before him. Whatever had happened to make Geralt believe this rubbish, he swore to undo it. To heal whatever wounds he carried.

“You’re wrong.” Feeling brave, Jaskier closed the distance between them, until the cold tips of their noses brushed; sharing the air between them, so close he could feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ll prove it to you. If you let me. Will you, Geralt? Will you let me?”

“..Yes.”

* * *

They’d barely made it to the bed.

Jaskiers head was spinning as his back hit the sheets. Geralt had refused to stop kissing him since they’d entered his apartment; lips pressed against his over and over, stealing his breath away. Desperately tore at his clothes like he couldn’t quite believe Jaskier was real.

It tore at the brunettes heart to witness this usually composed man fraying at the edges. Ran his hands along every inch of pale skin he could find in an attempt to comfort, to soothe. To reassure Geralt that he was here, that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was here to stay.

Things slowed down once they laid bare before each other. Rough, urgent touch bleeding into gentle caresses, kisses so soft he wanted to drown in them.

He had no idea how long they spent simply staring at each other, hands roaming, lips exploring. It felt like an eternity. Jaskier wanted it to never end.

He felt complete when Geralt filled him; like he’d found a piece of himself he hadn’t even known was missing. Strong arms holding him tight as they rocket together, languid, unhurried movements.

It didn’t matter if he came. It wasn’t about that, not now. Just about feeling each others presence, the warm press of another body; safe and content and whole.

He did come, and so did Geralt. After hours of- of _making love,_ they came together. Sighing into the kiss they shared, trembling with the beauty of it all.

Fell asleep in each others arms.

* * *

Geralt was an early riser; by the time Jaskier had dragged himself out of bed, his boyfriend was already showered and bustling about the kitchen. They always had breakfast together before they had to part for the day.

“Good morning.” Jaskier mumbled as he padded over to the coffee machine, still half asleep.

“Good morning.” Geralt replied, waiting until the brunette had taken the first sip of coffee to speak again. Jaskier truly did hate mornings. “Mail for you.”

Jaskier gave a small grunt.

He’d sent out his latest book to over a dozen publishers. Most hadn’t gotten back to him, and the ones that did had all rejected him. No one wanted to publish a book in a dead genre, with no profit to be made.

“Its just another rejection.” He huffed. “It can wait til I finish my coffee.”

“You don’t know that.” Jaskier sighed, but allowed the kiss Geralt pressed against his hair. “Open it.”

Feeling at best reluctant, he picked up the letter addressed to him. Cintra Publishing.

“Here goes nothing.” The envelope tore easily under his fingers, the white paper of the letter it held somehow menacing. Ah well. Better to get it over with.

He didn’t bother reading everything. Just skimmed his eyes along the lines, brows furrowing as he read-

“Geralt.” He breathed, eyes wide as he turned to the man he loved. “They- they want to publish it. They want to publish my book! Actually- actually publish it!”

Before he knew it, he was swept off the ground, strong arms coming around his hip and lifting him into the air, startling a laugh out of him.

“I told you.” Geralt said, holding him up without any effort at all. “I always knew you’d make it.”

“You did.” Jaskier grinned, cupping the mans cheeks. “Thank you, Geralt. So much.”

“What for?”

“For never letting me  forget my passion .” 


End file.
